John Walker's Electronic House

Welcome to our web of lies. Become entwined in Episode 36‘s multitude of untruthful deceit. Be deceived by our woven evil. Then listen as John’s house falls down.

And while pictures are appearing, here’s that bench:

Then, pear/blueberry cider lengthily discussed, we get around to reading out some of the last million years of emails. And you kept telling us to do this, so you can’t complain.

Does Coke taste better out of a glass? What are the odds of sitting in the United States? Should we stop whining?

Is Nick’s science dodgy? Is that a microphone, or are you just pleased to be recording a podcast? Is Rupert Murdoch Australian? Is Nick safe in your dreams?

Is there a more awful hairdressers name than this?

We then sidetrack into discussing Richard Herring’s As It Occurs To Me, at some length. Then when the name-dropping begins, Douglas Adams.

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To get this episode directly, right click and save here. To subscribe to Rum Doings click here, or you can find it in iTunes here.

It’s a back to basics, good old fashioned family values 35th episode of Rum Doings. Just Nick, John, a microphone and a disgusting bottle of rum. And this week we’re not discussing whether FIFA should have to bring in the rule that they should have the cameras in the goal posts to see if the goals are scored instigated.

We bring you some genuinely excellent news from Sainsbury’s (which apparently might be quite old news), and then move on to talk about John’s weekend break, and the joys of a British B&B. This of course involves tales of ketchup and coffee.

We talk about awful people, and responses to cold callers. Nick predicts the end-times, which brings us to the stories about the BP methane bubble. And where exactly does oil come from?

We finish by talking about Raoul Moat, although this was recorded before Cameron made his remarkable comments about feeling no sympathy.

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If you want to email us, you can do that here. If you want to be a “fan” of ours on Facebook, sigh, you can do that here.

To get this episode directly, right click and save here. To subscribe to Rum Doings click here, or you can find it in iTunes here.

It has been decreed by our Prime Minister that no one should feel sympathy for Raoul Moat. In a comment made in Prime Minister’s Questions today, he said:

“As far as I can see, it is absolutely clear, that Raoul Moat is a callous murderer. Full stop, end of story. And I cannot understand any wave, however small, of public sympathy for this man. There should be sympathy for his victims, and for the havoc he wreaked in that community. There should be no sympathy for him.”

Just to be clear, obviously Moat’s crimes were terrible. And his victims of course deserve abundant sympathy. The “wave of public sympathy” to which Cameron refers is the much publicised, and obviously ludicrous, Facebook groups in which people are supporting Moat as a hero. No matter what the circumstances of someone’s life, perhaps it’s reasonable to suggest that at the point they start murdering people one should cross them off the hero list. Unless they’re Batman.

However, the idea that in not supporting/endorsing a murderer’s actions one must backflip to the opposite extreme, and exhibit no sympathy at all, is quite extraordinary. It is, in fact, inhuman.

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Because I’m very dumb, I find I cannot resist finding out what adverts will appear for those horrid mouse-over text adverts some blogs and sites will litter themselves with. The word double-underlined is often intriguing enough to wish to learn with what Google will associate it.

The word “addicted” was certainly tempting enough. And I stress, I find the presence of such advertising annoying, and recognise how dumb I am to exacerbate the situation by deliberately letting my cursor near them, but despite this I do anyway. However, I rather loved the result this time. Click on it for a clearer version.

It’s undeniably extremely targeted advertising.

This weekend I took the opportunity to escape the hectic hustle and bustle of the Bath metropolis, and get myself out to a distant, confusing land, almost untouched by humans. Devon.

Which means, of course, staying in a B&B. The Great British bed and breakfast can be a mixed fare, but my previous experience was superb. Staying near Malvern, at the Severnside B&B. An amazingly friendly place, great room, and remarkable breakfasts, it was so pleasant as to have me forget the normal nature of staying away in the UK. As the name implies, it’s right on the bank of the Severn, an extremely pretty place, and not very expensive at all. So hopes and expectations were high for our visit to Woolacombe’s… well, let’s call it Ploppytops to avoid Google results.

Ploppytops looks more like a motel from the outside than a B&B. It’s very wheelchair friendly, but unfortunately is also very dog friendly. Meaning that stupid yappy creatures can appear at any moment.

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Welcome to Rum Doings 34, what must be the most interrupted podcast of all the podcasts that we have podcasted. This week we’re not talking about whether CCTV cameras have made our lives safer.

Imbibed is a black cherry soda, which we risk drinking without protective goggles. And then within mere minutes the first phonecall arrives. And a cat.

We attempt to explain BP’s real crime, and then the phone rings yet again. Listen in to Nick’s conversations! Be slightly bemused by what’s going on! Don’t call John’s mum!

A period of no interruptions features chat about Richard Herring, ordering wine, and ketchup. And then there’s a knock at the front door.

We then sniff a baby. Who becomes our very special guest, chattering away into the microphone, so quietly we couldn’t hear it ourselves at first.

There’s some actual content when we talk about DVDs, piracy, and DRM. And why some businesses insist on telling their shareholders how badly they’re doing.

Propel us into international fame. Tweet it, Facebook it, do whatever it is you young people do. And writing a review on iTunes helps us a great deal.

If you want to email us, you can do that here. If you want to be a “fan” of ours on Facebook, sigh, you can do that here.

To get this episode directly, right click and save here. To subscribe to Rum Doings click here, or you can find it in iTunes here.

I’ve been discussing the nature of affirmation and defamation with a few people recently, talking about where we get it from, and how it affects us. And one thing I’ve mentioned, to people who don’t make their living by having their words scrutinised and commented upon by the bustling internet, is comment threads under articles. And I was reminded to write about it by the most brilliantly awful comment that appeared on RPS today. Which is below.

Clearly I’m aware of the irony of a critic talking about the criticisms of their critiques, but as much as this may be, it’s still interesting to think about whether comments can affect me.

(I want to add that I’m mostly talking about comments on reviews, and the like. Comments threads on places like Rock, Paper, Shotgun tend to be much more about a regular community discussing the topic, rather than only people popping in to tell the site why the piece sucked/was great.)

I’ve flipped back and forth on reading comments. I’ve gone through times when I read none at all – I send the review to the editor, they’re happy with it, edit it, and it gets published – so as far as my job is concerned, I’ve done what I’m paid for. Then I go completely the other way and read all the comments, and respond to lots of them, sometimes getting involved in heated discussions. The latter I finally learned, years ago, is never worthwhile, and is something I’ve at last taught myself not to do. People who want to call you names are welcome to, and attempting to reason with them is almost never going to end in satisfaction. My compromise, currently, is to read them unless they’re boring, and to respond to genuine enquiries.

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During a recent afternoon trip to the 1970s world of Chew Magna Lake, my friends and I found ourselves attempting to create the Unphonetic Alphabet. The motivation being, a complete set of 26 words to use to bemuse people on the phone who ask for spelling. “No, that’s John. J for jalapeño.”

It’s ten short, which is where you come in. Can we complete this?

I’m sure many have done it before. There’s probably a website devoted to the subject, and someone else writing slash fiction about the letters involved. But rather than search for that and crib, it’s more fun to do it ourselves. So any suggestions for the missing letters are gratefully received. As are suggestions for better words. L and Y are particularly unsatisfying at the moment. Non-English words are perfectly good, so long as they’re in common English usage.

I’ll edit this post as suggestions come in. When it’s finished, we’ll all win a magic prize.

A: aether
B: bee / bdellium
C: ctenophore
D: djembe
E: eye
F:
G: gnat
H: honour
I:
J: jalapeño
K: knee
L: Llanelli
M: mnemonic
N: Nguyen
O: oestrogen
P: pneumatic
Q: qi
R: Rzeznik
S: sgraffitto
T: tsunami
U: Uighur
V:
W: write
X: xylophone
Y: Yreka
Z: Zaragoza

Welcome to Episode 33 of Rum Doings, an episode with a lot of introduction. Not discussed is whether Andy Murray has given up his hope to be the golden boy of British tennis.

Our slightly room temperature root beers come from a fridge that later investigation revealed to in fact be on 3. Put your fridges to 4, everybody.

We then attempt nostalgia comedy of the present, before drinking our illegal beverage. Nick does a splendid impression of a loud noise you’ll have just heard, and then we talk Thatcher.

We reveal why John’s girlfriend has had to be put down, the Nazi origins of John’s new car, and Nick explains why fried chicken is best. Christianity is renamed, houses are purchased through staring, and incredibly, John is doing some exercise.

Nick dies, John’s hirsute nature is discussed, we ponder those who swim, and we laugh at butterfly stroke. Some Martin Coxall anecdotes are shared, and then Nick reviews Red Dead Redemption. Then all of gaming.

And what do you think about people who read paperback books on the tube? And what if it’s by Jackie Collings?

Sing operas of us to the world. Tweet it, Facebook it, do whatever it is you young people do. And writing a review on iTunes helps us a great deal. Cool people do it. You want to be in the cool gang.

If you want to email us, you can do that here. If you want to be a “fan” of ours on Facebook, sigh, you can do that here.

To get this episode directly, right click and save here. To subscribe to Rum Doings click here, or you can find it in iTunes here.

I’m a lucky man that I’m often given amazing freedom to write as I want in various publications. Obvious Rock, Paper, Shotgun affords me tremendous freedom – but in a way having no rules at all is more restrictive than having rules to break. Clearly RPS gives me space to blather on my own nonsense, and that’s a great treat. But sometimes it can be more fun to get away with it elsewhere. PC Gamer has let me have a lot of fun with They’re Back for over ten years now (eek), and over the last year Eurogamer have given me an enormous amount of room when writing retrospectives a couple of Sundays a month. These are rapidly becoming my favourite things to write – there’s an extraordinary freedom in writing a retro piece. Reviews require you to Get It Right, with the weight of responsibility, and the anchor of a score at the end. But a retrospective lets you, well, write stuff about a game. (Have I blogged about this before? Well, never mind.) Which has let me play with ideas, experiment with form, and most of all, be a bit silly. And my passion in writing is to be a bit silly.

And I think I’ve not been more pleased with one of these pieces than the most recent, about International Superstar Soccer 64, an N64 game. The idea of my writing about football is comical enough. The idea of writing it during the World Cup, and go up on the day of England’s crashing defeat, seems ridiculous. It gave me an opportunity to have a lot of fun, and to hopefully write a few funny jokes. It begins like this:

“Football! Eh? Don’t we all love football! The way they kick it with their feet, the lovely round shape of the ball, the haircuts. It’s a game of at least two halves. And have you seen when they score a goal? Gosh, everyone gets so excited about that. What a time.

OK, look, I have to admit something. That first paragraph – that’s not really me. That was the result of hours researching the subject in an attempt to pass myself off as a connoisseur of the sport. But as convincing as it may have been, I can’t keep it up. I know about as much about foot-to-ball as a gnat comprehends of string theory. Which is something I have in common with International Superstar Soccer 64.

Some of you may have noticed that the World Cup is taking place at the moment. Perhaps you’ll have heard it mentioned on the television, read an article about it in a newspaper, or been outside with your eyes open.

As the entire county drapes itself in the brutal flag of the English crusades, apparently in the belief that this peculiar display of faux-patriotism in their cul-de-sac will have a significant impact upon the success of a team of players on another continent, this sporting event dominates all senses. (Yes, things even smell of the World Cup.)

For those of us who don’t suddenly develop an interest in a sport that we otherwise find tedious, just because it’s played on an international scale, there is no escape. It is omnipresent, and not to care is to be a pariah, hounded from towns like a paedophile wolf.”

I do eventually talk about the game. You can read it all here.

PS. My favourite comment on the article:

“Don’t we all love football!”

Question mark, not an exclamation mark.

Found large chunks of this piece very condescending and patronising.